To the Grave (32 page)

Talk about protesting too much, Dana thought sarcastically. “She mentioned a friend to me once.” She told him the woman's name. “If she has an unlisted phone number, I guess you'll have to call the police.”

“The police!”

“To report Bridget missing, if you're so certain something has happened to her and she hasn't just decided to take a long weekend.”

“She's been gone since Friday. You call that a long weekend? And where would she go? Who with?”

“With whom. I have no idea. You know her a
lot
better than I do.” Dana waited for Ken to give her a spluttering denial of knowing Bridget better than Dana did, but he was obviously too tired. “Ken, I want you to be here when our daughter is released.”

“I came here to sign papers. That's all taken care of. Now I need to be at the gallery. You and what's-her-name, the nurse, can get Mary home.”

Dana took a deep breath, trying to smother her anger. Finally, she was able to talk instead of shout. “Ken, you can at least
act
like you care. After all, bad publicity wouldn't be good for the gallery,” she added acidly. “I expect you to be here within the next hour. If you aren't, I will make sure half the hospital staff knows how unconcerned you are about your daughter.”

“Don't threaten me.”

“Don't disappoint me.”

“You mean ‘don't
disobey
me.'”

Dana, to her own bafflement, smiled. “Your vocabulary has improved since you were a stock boy at one of my father's stores, Ken, although I'm aware of the occasional grammatical gaffe.”

Ken looked furious. “Dammit, Dana—”

“You either stay here now or you come back within an hour. Mary can barely wait to see her father. And don't forget—people are watching you far more than they did before Arcos's murder.” Dana leaned closer and hissed, “For your own sake, don't screw up because of Bridget Fenmore.”

2

Eric Montgomery stood on the porch of the Gray home, hat in hand. Before he'd had a chance to ring the bell, an exhausted-looking Catherine swung open the door and demanded, “Do you know where that
thing
came from?”

“The mask.”

“Yes.”

“No.” She frowned at him. “No, I don't know where it came from yet.” He waited a moment and then asked, “May I come in?”

“Oh, I'm sorry.” She moved backward and Eric saw Lindsay peeping out from behind her. “That's quite a scary guard dog you have.”

“She's Marissa's dog, remember? Give me your coat and hat.” She turned and loudly yelled, “Marissa, Eric's here!”

Eric had never heard ladylike Catherine yell.
Never
. This was a definite sign that her nerves were shot, he decided, and was glad when Marissa rushed out of the kitchen and flung herself in his arms. “Our knight in shining armor! Tell us all about that awful mask!”

“I called you earlier—”

“James had a setback,” Catherine announced harshly. “Apparently he got out of bed in the night—he was sleepwalking, I suppose—and … and…”

“He didn't do much damage to his shoulder.” Marissa didn't even look at Catherine, whose eyes were beginning to drip. “He had to go back into surgery, but the doctor said they only needed a few more stitches to close a few that had torn. The original incision had enlarged, but four stitches—”

“Five!” Catherine snapped.

“Five stitches fixed him right up. He's snoozing away on painkillers right now. The doctor says this will only delay his recovery for a day or two.”

Catherine looked defiant. “She was just trying to make me feel better.”

“No, she wasn't. Did she look like one of those doctors who pat you on the back and tell you everything's fine when it isn't? She
knew
Dad, for God's sake.”

“What does that have to do with us?”

“Well, I'm sure it has something to do with respect and professionalism and … oh hell, I don't know.”

“I'm sorry about James,” Eric said. “Does he sleepwalk?”

“Not that I know of,” Catherine replied.

“It might have been a reaction to his injury or the medicine,” Eric replied.

“Catherine, calm down,” Marissa said kindly. “Go upstairs, cry some more, and get this anxiety out of your system.”

“I'm not going anywhere until I hear about the mask.”

Marissa sighed. She looked almost as tired as Catherine and twice as frustrated. Nevertheless, Marissa was obviously working at keeping up her spirits. “You might as well spill all the details about the mask or there will be no peace this afternoon, and
someone
needs a nap before the wedding tonight.”

“What have you found out about the mask?” Catherine urged.

“The mask was plastic,” Eric said. “We didn't find any prints. However, the glue on the gold lace edging wasn't completely dry and neither was the black paint used to make the star around the right eye.”

“The paint was fresh?” Catherine asked.

“I don't know. It was latex paint,” Eric said. “Sometimes latex paint can dry on plastic in an hour. It's often used on stuff like model cars or ships.”

“But you can't tell exactly how long ago the star was painted.”

“No, Catherine, I'm sorry, but I can't. The glue used to attach it is completely dry. It could have been Krazy Glue. We'll be testing the paint and the glue Monday, but today all I can tell you is that I think the mask was decorated yesterday.”

“But you know what that mask looks like.” Eric remained silent while Catherine stared at him. “It looks exactly like the mask Renée is wearing in
Mardi Gras Lady.
”

“I've only seen that painting once, but as I remember it, the mask does look like the one the woman in the painting is wearing.”

“Where would someone get a mask like that around here?”

“In Aurora Falls?” Eric shrugged. “I don't know. It's near Halloween, though. A few shops around here sell costumes. We're already checking on them to see if anyone bought a full costume with a plastic half mask or just a white plastic mask that could be decorated any way the buyer wanted. I have a feeling the person who left that mask on your seat wouldn't take the chance on being recognized as someone who recently bought a mask like that, though, so I looked on the Internet. You can order plain white plastic masks and have them delivered overnight. If I were going to pull a stunt like someone did on you last night, I'd be safe and order a mask, not buy one locally.”

“Do you think it could be the mask Renée wore in the portrait?”

“If she actually wore that mask and posed for the painting, Arcos could have kept the mask out of sentiment,” Eric said. “After his murder, we went over his warehouse thoroughly, though, and we didn't find it. Of course, if it really existed, she let him keep it and then left him, he could have destroyed it out of anger or grief or … hell, I didn't know Arcos. I don't know how his mind worked, what he might have done with it. If the painting is just a product of his imagination, the mask in your car could simply be one made to look like the one in the portrait.”

“So the important question is who would do something like this,” Marissa said.

Eric nodded. “We have a list of people invited to the dinner. Catherine, did you know all of them?”

“Heavens, no! A lot were business associates of Lawrence. I met them, but I don't remember most of their names.”

“Except for Maud,” Marissa said.

Catherine rolled her eyes. “Oh lord, I'll never forget Maud.”

Eric looked at her. “Maud?”

“Maud Webster,” Catherine said. “Her husband, Ed, is senior vice president of Star Air. He seemed very nice. She was another matter. Pushy, nosy, no manners. Of course, she'd had too much to drink, but I have a feeling she's not much better when she's sober. She knew about my relationship with James and what happened last Saturday. She kept asking me what it felt like to discover his wife's body. She would
not
shut up and she was talking loudly. People were pretending not to hear her, but I knew they could hear every word. Marissa kept trying to interrupt, but it didn't do any good. Maud's husband, Ed, must have finally seen what was happening. He hurried over and started nearly dragging her toward a couple named the Suskins or Sutpins. I can't remember their exact names.” For the first time, Catherine smiled. “I do remember that they looked like they were ready to bolt for the door when they saw her coming!”

“They must know her,” Marissa said dryly. “When even
I
can't get someone to shut up, you know you're in trouble.”

“I'll talk to the Suskins or Sutpins about Maud,” Eric said. “Maybe she had a reason for being so tenacious.”

“I think she's one of those people who just lives for gossip, but there might be something else,” Catherine said.

Eric frowned. “You said a lot of people heard her.”

“At least half the room.”

“Did anyone look surprised?”

“Surprised?” Catherine echoed.

“Yes, like they hadn't already heard about you finding the body.”

“Well, honestly, I was thinking more about how embarrassed I was than watching for other people's reactions,” Catherine answered. “Why are you asking?”

“Because not everyone at the rehearsal dinner was from Aurora Falls. Some of the Star people were from at least a hundred miles away. They probably would have heard about the body being found, but they wouldn't have known what Catherine Gray looked like.”

“Oh,” Catherine said. “So Maud might as well have pointed me out to the whole group.”

“Exactly.”

“But how would whoever did this know which car was mine?”

“It would probably be easy to slip in a seemingly casual question to Patrice or Lawrence about your car.”

“What if we'd taken Marissa's instead of mine?”

“I doubt if there were too many convertible red Mustangs in the parking lot that night. You're sure you didn't lock your car last night, Catherine?”

“Fairly sure. I was nervous about giving my speech and afraid I didn't look right in my new dress—it's not my usual style. But how could someone know I'd leave the door unlocked?”

“Maybe it didn't matter.” Catherine looked at Eric quizzically. “Maybe someone brought along a lockout kit for opening locked car doors.”

“This person came to the rehearsal dinner and brought along a mask
and
a lockout kit?”

“Both of which they could have left in their own car,” Eric said. “Did either of you notice someone being away from the dinner for fifteen or twenty minutes?”

The sisters looked at each other. Finally, Marissa said, “There was a social hour before we ate. I think it lasted about twenty minutes—maybe a little more. And I counted. Forty-one guests attended the dinner.”

Catherine looked at her. “You
counted
?”

“I got bored during those long-winded toasts Lawrence's friends made. Anyway, Eric, there were forty-one guests and before the dinner actually started there was plenty of time for someone to leave for a few minutes. Even longer.”

Eric frowned, chewing on his bottom lip. “Maybe whoever left the stuff wasn't a guest at the rehearsal dinner. The Larke Inn has three dining rooms and a very large parking area. Someone could have just waited until they saw the two of you arrive and go inside the inn. Then they went to work.” Eric looked at Catherine's bleak expression. “This might not be as serious as it seems,” he said. “Remember, we're near Halloween. It could have been done as a prank by someone who doesn't even know you. They just know who you are, what happened, what kind of car you drive. After all, the car is parked five days a week where you work. They didn't have to do much research
or
much work to give you a good scare.”

“Which they did. Give me a good scare, that is.” Catherine seemed to be thinking over this possibility. Then she shook her head. “No, Eric, it just doesn't feel right. They would have had to order the mask and the decorations, copy the mask on
Mardi Gras Lady
perfectly, not leave any fingerprints, know the time of the rehearsal dinner—it just seems like too much trouble for a simple, harmless scare.”

Which was exactly what Eric thought, although he'd hoped to sell the “harmless scare” theory to Catherine to give her at least one calm day. “Well, I'm not ruling it out,” he said firmly.

He exchanged looks with Marissa. He could tell by the expression in her gaze that she knew exactly what he was doing. They been together too long, loved each other too long, for her not to understand how his mind worked and every nuance of his voice. Sometimes this made him feel so close to her, it was almost as if they were one person and the reassurance of not feeling alone was beyond joy. And then sometimes it was a colossal pain.

“And how did they know I'd be at the rehearsal dinner last night?”

“Lawrence Blakethorne is well-known in this city. A lot of people know he's getting married today. People also know that the woman who found the dead body is Patrice's maid of honor.”

“That sounds like a lot of ‘ifs' to me,” Catherine said disparagingly.

“It sounds like a lot of ‘ifs' to me, too,” Eric admitted. “I was just throwing it out there as a possibility.”

“Any other flimsy possibilities, Sheriff?”

“Chief Deputy,” Eric said, and failed at a grin. “Okay, Catherine, this one isn't so flimsy. I realize you can't break client-patient confidentiality, but I have to know if you have a patient you believe might be capable of this,” he asked uncomfortably.

Catherine looked incensed. “A patient? Absolutely not!”